


Anamnesis

by Bnever2busy2byoyo



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, One Shot, Purple Prose, Short, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bnever2busy2byoyo/pseuds/Bnever2busy2byoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once in a while a moment in time leaves a lasting impression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anamnesis

A bitter cold, bleak and dry. It sucks the warmth from his body in seconds, leaving a shivering chill. Once manifested and augmented it would leave behind sweat patches. A damp interior fighting against a frozen unforgiving exterior. The fight to the community kitchen had been short but fierce. 

Castiel bundled his hands against the fadding nip in the air and wondered if the cheap oven mitts would withstand the hot tray straight from the oven or if he would have to wait before he could make the trip back. 

Glancing back out the window, he sees beyond to the edge of the concrete terrace laced by the rebar and even farther to the churning seas of grey sky. Nothing but shifting wind blowing bites of diamond in the air. Shimmers stay momentarily suspended before a sudden gale spirits them away again. 

The oven timer beeps. Two minutes left. 

A quick glance back brings the scent of cinnamon and yeast impregnated in the room. A batch of sugary rolls sits on a rectangle tray in the center wire rack of the decrepit black oven. Like everything else in the shared kitchen, it had clearly had better days. Underneath the lip of the oven the linoleum is cracked and yellowed with age. A fine streak of white bares witness to whatever commercial cleaner had been rubbed and scrubbed into the spiderweb fractures under the weight and age of the countertops. Another soft beep. One minute. Turning his head back to the window, Castiel breathes a soft puff and frosts the glass. Focusing back out beyond the dancing snow and out further beyond to the distant frozen mountains. He isn't here, not really. He is already back in the room. 

Is it possible to already miss someone you are about to see?

*beep beep beep beep beep*

Quickly now, before any more time expires. Castiel fiddles with the package of premade icing, working fast to spread the white sugar paste onto the rolls with the aid of a plastic knife. Instructions stated, "Contents will be HOT" and "While still warm spread icing" to achieve the ideal of what the picture promised they should look like.

He quickly sweeps up the wrappers and gets rid of them attempting to leave the place free of signs of his visit. Buttoning up his fleece the rest of the way he once again regrets not having taken the additional seconds to put more layers on before he decided to set out, besotted with ideas of sharing warm yeasty offerings on a cold day. The oven mitts go back on and he knows he only has moments to dart across the snow covered ground before the winds ruin the any idea of hot pastry. Before winter manages to turn his efforts into cold lumps of bread.

Balancing the tray with both hands Castiel pushes the door out with his back. Stepping out onto the edge by the sidewalk to avoid the black ice hidden under the layer of fluff he quickly darts the few yards between buildings using his body to shelter the tray. Once he reaches the side of the building he has a small respite before he ascends to the third floor and over past two, three, four other apartment doors to reach their space.

He kicks the door softly with the toe of his boot and is quickly sucked into the warmth of the room. A grey/blue old carpet spans the length of the studio. The large window covered in hanging slates monopolizes the rest of the wall beside the front entrance. A dark green couch sits under the frame of the window and a futon is against the opposing wall beside the wood entertainment center holding the television and various pieces of electronics out of which a faint melody plays.

_...you, you make loving fun ....and I don't have to tell you you're the only one..._

The man who opened the door smiled welcome back and he is already walking back past the other entrance to the kitchenette. He follows his lead, still clutching the tray, watching the broad shoulders filling the length of the faded black tshirt. Not a word passes between them as he sets down the tray and carefully slips his hand out of the bottom mitt so the tray is not directly on the kitchen table but lays on the cloth instead.

The scent of cinnamon is mixing with the smell of coffee. He moves closer to Castiel and reaches around under his arm to maneuver a roll up and into his mouth. There is a mug already sitting out in anticipation of his arrival, a small space left for milk and sugar. 

A second later, a twist of body and they are impossibly close. Personal space overlapping and heat mixing in an immediate mutual interest that is impossible to move past. The stubble on his jaw, the sleepy green eyes. Clingy soft sweat pants, rumpled and creased. Clean laundry, powder and his scent are everywhere. Castiel knows him. He could be struck deaf and blind and he would know him.

It takes but a moment and Castiel is disconnected. He is swimming, seeping, drowned in those eyes. The sound of his heart beating in his throat is maddening. A crazed need to swallow is present in the back of his mind and when he finally does after a beat he watches him stare and follow the movement under his skin. Both know what it means. 

From the gail outside to the soft dreamy heat of this fortress of solitude the impression of being the only people left on the planet lingers in his mind and burns it's place into his heart. Already he knows that whatever the future brings it will not matter. For this one morning in time he will always remember how everything felt. How for this moment two people, two beings despite the infinite possibilities and choices made the decision to choose each other...to love each other. 

.  
..  
...

"Since when do YOU listen to Fleetwood Mac?"

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a first effort. Constructive criticism is always appreciated but if you just want to let me know how much it sucked without offering some *helpful* suggestions for improvement I have but one thing to say and save you the effort:
> 
> t(-.-t) 
> 
> Fuck off, chode. We don't like haterade here.
> 
> To everyone else, thank you for your time!


End file.
